Written Viewmaster
by MoreRefinedThanMost
Summary: Rachel has a pen pal that she writes to as a therapeutic tool, recounting events from college life and answering questions about her relationship with Garfield. A series of short drabbles meant to illustrate a vivid but fathomable continuation after the Teen Titans left the Titan Tower. Image Credit to annsolnceva on tumblr!
1. Chapter 1: Annoyance

I suppose this could be considered an AU of sorts. Hope you enjoy! **Disclaimer:** I do not own Teen Titans, much to my dismay.

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I guess you could say most people are different in private. I mean, it's not as if I would cry in front of everyone, not that I ever really cry in the first place. But sometimes, it's hard. Sometimes meditation isn't enough to sedate my emotions. Sometimes he's there, but not because I want him to be.

It's difficult when you have psionic and psychic abilities, and your significant other has the empathy and "sixth sense" of the entire animal kingdom. Even if I were worlds away, I think he would feel in his bones if I weren't okay. It's kind of annoying.

I realize how that sounds but if someone _weren't_ ever annoyed by their partner, there'd have to be something wrong with them. This isn't Pleasantville — this is reality and I've got to accept it. So to answer truthfully, he does annoy me.

I'm not the kind of person who wants to be held and rocked if I'm hurt. I don't even want to be talked to. I appreciate my solitude, and there are many reasons why I seek it. My feelings happen to be just one of those reasons; and even after this long he still doesn't understand.

There was a time, though I hate to admit it, that I was glad he was there. Nothing awful happened. It was just this test that I had to take.

Higher education is no joke.

I'm no good with subjects like psychology. I have the basic understanding, but the subject matter itself is so complex I can hardly keep it straight. I asked Gar to come over and help me study for an exam. He was my study partner for the week leading up to the tests. He made flashcards, tea and coffee (for himself), met me at the library and the café on campus, even worked it out with his roommate to have his room to ourselves while we studied there. He never did anything but help me study. He didn't flirt, or try to put moves on me like he's usually prone to do. We were a unified front with the same goal in mind: Help Rachel Pass this Class. He put me to bed early the night before the test, was at my door to walk me to the lecture hall with what he called "Luck Tea" for me to drink. Afterward he wasn't there, and I appreciated that. I needed time to stew in my uncertainty. I didn't want to take any questions. How did I think I did? Was it difficult? Did I feel like I knew the answers?

The days leading up to the reveal of the test scores, it was life as normal. Well, as normal as it can be when you attend a private college for young supers like us. I didn't see much of him, but that was normal, too. I'm grateful that I have someone who can respect my need for space and not immediately suspect I'm using that time to shop around for someone better.

It was raining when I walked to class. Windy. Just before I got there, a strong gust bent my umbrella out of shape. I was immediately pissed but quickly centered myself. It was only the second umbrella the wind on this campus had destroyed. I could easily buy another. I decided not to view it as an omen.

Test score days are always brief. The professor reviews the data from his exams in previous years and compares it to the scores of the current class. Then he calls our names one by one and we go up to receive our exams and view our scores before returning it to him and signing out for the day. Two people out of the hundred and fifty who tested failed this year.

I was one of the failures.

Grief washed over me as I left, and my eyes stung with the threat of emotion. It was raining harder now, in sheets. The wind was blowing all of the rain toward my face. I walked home with my head held low, soaked to my underclothes. I slammed the door, kicked my muddy boots off, stripped and threw my sopping clothes at my half-full hamper, then immediately went to my bathroom to take a hot shower and have a cry. I could feel he was somewhere in the room, but I couldn't bother to talk to him.

When I came out of the shower in my towel, my boots were sitting on an old copy of the college newspaper to the left of the door where I liked them, my hamper was gone (presumably in the laundry down the hall), and the electric kettle in the window sill was just starting to whistle.

He looked up from my bed, blinked sleepily as if he had been a cat for the entire duration of my return home, and chuffed. I sighed and sat by him, picked him up and he nuzzled his soft, whiskered face against my chin. I stroked his back and sides and just as I was starting to give him a belly and chest rub, my eyes started to well again. He meowed softly, started kneading my breast with his paws, and I cried into his neck. The kettle whistled incessantly, and eventually I stood and unplugged it, carrying him with me.

"Thanks, but no thanks." I dripped a bit of snot on the top of his head before I layed back on the bed. He merely licked his paw and cleaned his head before snuggling in beside me. I fell asleep and when I woke, his head was on my chest, his arms holding wrapped around one of mine. He'd shifted back to his beautiful self sometime while we were sleeping, and managed not to disturb me. My bed didn't feel quite so cold that afternoon.

Hope I gave you the answers you were looking for.

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 **A/N|** I rarely _ever_ write in first person. I hope it was comfortable to read. If you can spare a moment to leave a spot of constructive criticism, I'd be grateful seeing as I'm rusty returning from a two-year plus hiatus. Drop me a line about questions you would ask in a letter to Rachel and/or with any headcanons you'd like to see incorporated.


	2. Chapter 2: Phenomenon

Here lies the second installment.

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His routine is unshakable by anyone that isn't me.

I was surprised to learn that he had one— or rather a few. The first few times I was around long enough to witness these phenomena, there was this confidence in me that told me he was doing what he was doing because I was there, because I was special. Perhaps because he felt it necessary to impress me.

The fact is, he does these things for himself. There was a time when we weren't as involved in each other's lives as we had been in some of our more formative years. During this time, or so I've come to gather, he developed certain skills to tarry away the day. A set list of distractions.

It goes like so:

On a weekday, he'll rise anywhere between six and ten in the morning, dependent upon when his shift at the veterinary clinic and boarding service begins. Upon arrival he'll rub his wrists behind his ears, spreading some of his natural pheromones into an area animals are more likely to accept (that's another thing I suppose you'll be wondering about— the pheromones). He opts not to wash his hands as the scent of the sanitizer tends to offend the felines.

Then, he'll spend at least a few minutes with each animal after he's fed them. He strokes them, says there name in ways I wish he would say mine, tells them how kind they are, that they're a good boy or girl. Somewhat like Santa Claus, in his way, but the gift is a guarantee that every day they would be fed, loved, and paid proper attention by someone constant in their short lives.

Except for Tuesday mornings, when he has a recurring appointment that he refuses to go into details over. It bothers me, I won't lie, but he can have his own business.

When our classes align, he'll either buy me a tea or I'll buy him a coffee (dark roast with plenty of non-dairy caramel creamer). He's progressive and so am I, so we believe it's better for both of us to take turns paying when we do things together. We'll sit on a bench and split the college newspaper, if it's out. He gets to read the comics first. I check out the events page for details on public speakers. Then we'll trade.

After we take lunch separately, we'll meet at the clocktower in the center of campus and I'll walk with him to his tutoring appointment. Math is not his strong suit, I'm afraid. He keeps his headphones in for the entire duration of the journey and we don't carry any conversation. There's a certain headspace he must be in before he can be patient and receptive to learning about something that frustrates him to no end.

We may or may not see each other at dinner. Usually not during the week as it's important for us to maintain our friendships outside of each other.

There is a strict agreement in place that we do not have… overnights at each other's rooms during the week.

I've said it before, however it bears repeating: higher education is no joke. I learned the hard way and so did he.

It's a somewhat different story on weekends. He still rises early, in my opinion. He adamantly refuses to sleep in any later than noon or he feels he's lost his entire day. He'll roll over and grab his pipe. My boyfriend smokes plants. Ones that were recently legalized in our area as well as a medley of smokeable herbs. He lights a stick of incense, rolls out a yoga mat in the morning light streaming onto his rug, and dedicates 15 minutes to simply stretching before he takes a shower.

Being fully clothed is not his foremost concern when in his own home, so he'll quietly pull out his easel, set it up by the window, and sit on his stool to paint. Naked.

My boyfriend paints naked, and he's a fairly decent artist to boot. He listens to soft, acoustic music, and as he air-dries, he creates tragically beautiful landscapes. Storms, wildfires, hurricanes, tornados, tsunamis, deserts…

I'm not sure he knows that I'm aware of his art. As I mentioned, I consider rising before noon to be on the early side. He says I'm bourgeois with a simpleton for a partner, a queen who will rise early for no one, not even her pauper.

Except I will. He just doesn't notice. And I don't want him to notice. I burrow in the blankets on days like this, just to see his expression and how he moves when he's creating.

There are a few things he enjoys while I'm asleep, but I wouldn't want to shock you. I suppose a more innocent admission would be about the sniffing. After he's effectively hidden and tucked away his work, he'll shimmy back into bed with me. He'll trace his fingers up and down my arm, toy with my fingers for a moment, all the while darting looks at my face to confirm I'm still asleep. Leaning in close, he'll lay his head on my shoulder and twine his fingers into my hair to give a very gentle sniff.

A snuffle, really.

He'll chuff very softly, a slight smile always pulls at the corner of his mouth, and with his eyes closed, he'll lay by me , listening to my heartbeat until I "wake up".

Some days, it takes all I have not to become a sleeping beauty if only to revel in small moments like these.

I hope one day I can forgive myself for ever thinking him smaller than he is. He is great. A phenomena all his own.

I wish other people were capable of seeing his humanity— _our_ humanity. There is such an emphasis on his innate animal instincts by people outside of our lives. It makes him feel cheap. Lesser. He's a great man. I mean that.

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 **A/N|** Refraining from getting schmaltzy on you proved harder than I thought. As always, I appreciate all constructive criticism!


	3. Chapter 3: Cannibalism

He's not allowed to cook. At least, not in my room. Anything he's ever attempted to make has caught on fire, which I guess would explain his love for takeout food and microwave meals. It's tough for him, though, since he's vegan (exception: cheese). Fortunately, our college city caters to many tastes and diets, so he's a regular at the local vegan dives.

I remember back in the Titan Tower when Robin had ordered an all meat pizza. Everyone was starving and we all jumped on a slice, but Gar immediately dropped his as if he'd been badly burnt and turned an incredulous look to our leader. "Duuuuuude, are you serious?"

Robin looked heavenward before cracking a laugh. "What? You could use a little more meat on your bones."

"That's… not even funny dude." He looked down and shook his head before stalking to the kitchen to scavenge for something else. I was shocked at myself for forgetting— I mean, if you think about it it'd be like cannibalism, for him. Or like eating himself. I lost my appetite, setting my piece back in the box.

"Beast Boy, I'm sorry, okay? We didn't even think about you when we ordered." Robin's apology came across insincere as it was tinged with annoyance.

"Yeah, I know. It's just, like… really fucked up if you think about it. That we cage these animals and breed them just to kill them. What if that pig on your pizza had friends? What if the cow had a family?" He shrugged as if the words he were saying were no big deal, but they obviously were if the furrow in his brow was any indication. "Why not just eat me , while you're at it? I probably taste loads better than all of them."

"C'mon, BB. You don't have to talk about it like that," Cyborg said before looking at his slice disdainfully.

He narrowed his misty eyes at his closest friend before disappearing into his room.

We all stared into the pizza box, lost in our own thoughts. Starfire returned her slice and left without saying anything. Robin tried to tell her to wait, but she wasn't interested. Cyborg sighed and let his head fall into his hand. "How am I supposed to eat when my best buddy is on my pizza?" He left, too.

"Well, I'm hungry and I paid for it." Robin devoured it without a hint of remorse.

All I could do was scoff and walk away.

Though I wasn't exactly into him then, I knew I would never again consume a steak without thinking of Beast Boy in a slaughterhouse. After that day, I never ate meat again. Not even now, in this diner, though I can smell bacon being fried to perfection.

How did we get on this subject again?

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 **A/N|** A shorter one today. Sometimes I go on and on when I shouldn't.


	4. Chapter 4: Mother and Anastasia

I took longer on this than I meant to. Let's just get right the fuck to it.

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Everyone wanted us to be together. Even the team. And I knew he was interested in me, but I wasn't… equipped to handle that at the time. I had a lot of development yet to do. A lot of maturing.

Five hormonal teenagers in one building made schooling difficult. We used to all learn together, but all of the males would distract so easily that it was determined one-on-one teaching would be necessary.

Honestly, I don't really know what the others were learning, or where. I knew one thing for certain, however: neither I nor Beast Boy did our learning in the tower.

Of course with separate but equal learning we were bound to meet other people. People not supers like us. So though it may come as a tremendous shock, we did not lose our virginities to each other.

In fact, he was the first of either of us to start dating. He went by Craig Logan for a few years. Met an older woman who couldn't resist her maternal instinct to care for him. He's never really discussed much about this relationship, aside from the fact that it wasn't exactly a romantic love he felt for her. It was the same way from her to him. In essence, they had a sort of mother-son relationship with benefits.

She'd buy him almost whatever he wanted, take him anywhere he wanted to go in Jump City, praise him, call him by so many nicknames… What wasn't to enjoy? But there was a deeper element to the relationship he's only hinted at. There's no way to ascertain this, but I think he was a submissive and she was the Dominant. He was only one of many of her children. He couldn't disobey her or he would face punishment. He couldn't do many adult things, like use a phone or drive or order for himself while he was with her, because he was "too little" (he was around 16 or 17, then). He's a very clean person, so I doubt he ever wore a diaper when he was with her or anything like that. But I did find a pacifier once, back in the tower. One too large to be for any actual toddlers.

She took his virginity. He assures me it was a good time. Not just the sex, the relationship in general. I'm not so sure myself seeing as I would never put myself in that position.

As for me… I lost mine around what would have been my senior year of high school, had I attended. She was a college student, studying art and photography. And she thought I was the most beautiful creature she'd ever lain eyes on.

I was in the park reading on a bench by the fountain. She approached me, a camera hanging around her neck, and asked if she could take a picture of me for class.

"Our assignment is to take pictures of strangers," she explained. "I don't know you, so I just, uh"— she tucked a wild hair behind the shell of her ear and shrugged— "thought I'd see if I could take one of you?" Her accent was faint but still pronounced. Somewhere from England, I could only assume.

I pursed my lips but eventually nodded. She extended her hand. "I'm Anastasia."

Shaking hers, I said, "Rachel. But now we aren't strangers anymore, are we?"

Anastasia laughed. "I guess you're right. I won't tell if you won't?"

I agreed. She told me to just go about my business and she'd "disappear" into the background to take the shot.

She came back to show me, paging through numerous frames, and I couldn't help but say "I thought you said one?"

"Ah. Um…" She blushed. "I couldn't help myself. You're so photogenic.. It's uncanny, really. And kind of unfair." Anastasia's laugh was contagious, even to me. "Hey, Rachel… Can I buy you an ice cream or something?"

And that was the start of it. I didn't really understand my feelings then. I thought to myself, _wow, she must really want to be friends_. I didn't have many of those, so anytime she messaged me about hanging out I'd say yes. No matter what it was she wanted to do.

Spending time with her was like… taking a nap in the sun. Warm, content, tempted to fall asleep and dream forever. We talked about everything— cheese, spirit animals, matte or shiny nail polish, Chucks or combat boots, the elusive boobgasm, did we even exist or is life a simulation? We'd see guest speakers on her campus, go to concerts and festivals…

For a long time, I was sure we were just very good friends. She knew we were destined to be more.

She asked me, "How would you feel, if I kissed you right here and now?" when we were laying in her bed, reading books.

I looked at her confused but still in good humor. "What, like… now? Why?" I laughed it off and went back to my book, but I could feel her unwavering gaze on my face, pulling me in, trying to draw my eyes to meet hers.

She placed her hand on my thigh and sighed imploringly. I was nervous, but I finally looked her in the eye. "Rach."

"Yeah."

"Just think about it. Okay? No reason to get weird. Just… think about how you'd feel, if I kissed you. If we held hands when we went to get tea. If I hugged you hello and goodbye every time we hung out. And how you'd feel… if instead of doing those things with you, I did them with someone else." Then she resumed her comfortable position lounging against the pillows on her bed and opened her book as if she hadn't just said what she'd said.

When I was in the safety of my room that night, I broke into a sweat considering what she'd asked me. Thoughts of kissing brought a swarm of butterflies into my stomach; hugs, sweaty palms; holding hands… like taking a nap in the sun. And Anastasia doing any of that with… not me… it was as if someone had taken the sun out of the sky and drowned it in the frigid waters of the arctic.

We were together for a year. She didn't think to tell me that she'd be returning home that next summer until 2 weeks from when she was due to leave. Hadn't planned on informing me until about four days prior to her departure.

I was shellshocked, angry, vulnerable, and absolutely gutted, and that was when he entered the picture.

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 **A/N|** Wow. This is the longest in a story technically that I have gone without a shit ton of smut. I hope it'll be worth the wait.


	5. Chapter 5: We Need to Talk

**Yeah, yeah. I'm way late. Sorry.**

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I know I keep beating around the bush, but I _really think_ it's for the best to go back a little more before we move forward. The past is in the past, I will agree with that, but sometimes it's necessary. This time, it's necessary.

We need to talk about Tera.

I don't want to rehash what doesn't need to be. I don't even want to talk about what happened to her, to be completely honest. No… No, we need to talk about what happened to _him._

We other Titans refer to it as "The Day Beast Boy Went Quiet". After our work in Tokyo and his run in with someone who seemed to be Tera— looked like her— smelled like her, even— he was unnerved.

He'd always been the one who didn't need explanations, who was grounded, but I think the trouble in Tokyo triggered him and caused him to begin questioning his reality. Was she a ghost? A doppelganger? A figment of his imagination? Did any of this even… happen? When we returned and debriefed, the team split off leaving he and I in the common room together. He was moving as if a robot, purely mechanical in its purpose, and his eyes were dead inside like a fish's eyes in the meat case.

"H-Hey... Beast Boy..." I don't know what possessed me to do it but before I could stop myself I'd reached out my hand while his back was turned. The lush flesh of his back was tainted by a singular yellowing bruise, and my fingertips brushed over it gingerly. I didn't look at him, merely followed the movements of my fingers with my eyes as if in a trance. "Are you going to be okay? A lot happened out there."

He didn't register my touch at all. Instead he turned to peer over his shoulder at me, and his dead eyes misted over and threatened to spill. He couldn't meet my gaze for long. His lower lip began to quiver before a small portion of it disappeared between his teeth. Finally he turned toward me though his eyes were trained on the floor.

Never in our entire careers had I seen an expression such as this on his face before. I just wanted to help. To alleviate some of his pain. I reached out again, placing my hand on the crest of his neck and shoulder. We both watched my hand, taking it what it was like for my skin to touch his. He was so warm… Just the slightest bit sticky from his sweat. I felt like I could almost hear the blood pumping through his veins, not concerned about how pointless living was to its host. I rubbed my thumb along his collarbone and my fingertips began to glow.

"I can heal you, if you want…" I found myself saying, tilting my head to the side as I observed his pain manifest under the surface. "...Take it away so you don't have to think about it anymore. Hold onto it for you until you're ready."

He smacked my hand away suddenly and picked up his clothes, taking off down the hall toward his room. I was left standing there, my hand still raised, and what bit of the miasma I had pulled from him rolled off and upwards into the air in rivulets, like thick ink.

I'd never touched anything like it. I found myself bringing my middle finger and thumb together and apart several times, to stretch the substance out, test its viscosity.

I was still mentally reeling from what I'd just witnessed. I was processing the cause and effect of my actions. Why had I touched him? I'd never initiated physical contact with him before. We just knew it wasn't something I would ever do. So why?

 _Why did I do that?_ Why now?

And why was it that when I pressed the inky pad of my finger to my tongue, I was awash with the melancholy of knowing I'd never tasted anything sweeter or more ambrosia-like, and never would again?

Why, for years, would I constantly hanker in the back of my vapid mind for another opportunity to relish that devastating flavor again?

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 **A/N| Tell me what you think of this installment, it was interesting to pen out.**


	6. Chapter 6: Instincts

So Anastasia left. And it sucked worse than anything else had ever sucked before.

The tutors were sure to cover plenty of ground, but no one had taught us about just being humans. About recognizing emotions for what they are, understanding that there's more to the spectrum of feelings than simply happy, sad, angry, and excited.

Starfire helped me through this period. She and Robin had gone through a difficult separation before, so the expressions on my face were rather familiar.

We ended up being roommates my first year at college. She tried her hardest to get me interested in happenings on campus, or hitting the bars for some no strings attached fun, but I was having a difficult time making the adjustment from the life I took for granted in the Titan Tower to this large campus full of people who seemed to be normal, compared to me— to all of us.

I don't know, I guess I just wanted to be in our room all the time, away from everyone. I didn't want to miss out on an opportunity to have the room to myself if Star went out to party or something like that. Even if she was gone, it didn't ever feel like _my_ room. It was just _the_ room.

We were in a program that let us move onto campus a month ahead of everyone else, so my only memories of then is Starfire trying and trying to get me to just come eat dinner with her, or meet some of her friends, or go for a walk, and me never going. Just staying, you know? Laying in bed, fucking around on my phone. Swiping through apps constantly because nothing could stimulate me enough. Rereading past texts from Ana and crying and crying because she was gone and no matter when I called to talk to her— because "we'll always be friends first"— she would never answer.

I'm pretty sure my nose was chapped for that whole month because I couldn't stop my sniveling.

I almost didn't go to my first day of classes. What was the point? But Starfire convinced me. What if something came up where I had to miss class or a test? I should at least start off on the right foot, make sure my professors know who I am. Just in case I ever needed them to be on my side. Even if I never showed my face in class again.

Almost all of my courses that semester were large lecture hall courses. You know the type, with over a hundred students and only one professor, never really feeling like you understand the content or that your questions are being answered in depth enough. The one course that was smaller and in hand less overwhelming was my world religions class.

It was the one elective that I had managed to make it into. I was stuck taking all gen-eds until I was sure what career I wanted to pursue (and that's another thing— how can anyone expect us to have our lives figured out by eighteen, let alone twenty?), so this was going to have to be my saving grace. The only class I was looking forward to.

When I made it up the stairs with the last ten stragglers and found the classroom, I was embarrassingly relieved to see that this class only had room for about twenty students. The desks were each separated by 2 feet of distance! Thank all of the powers that be that I wouldn't have to _touch or be touched by anyone_. I watched the carpet in front of me as I beelined to the desk at the furthest end of the room, the last one before the corner. Slammed my bag down on the floor beside it and sat my ass down faster than I ever had in my life. This desk was _mine_ , damn it. And the fellow late students filled in the desks around me. No one sat by me that I knew, so I wouldn't even have to _talk_. Could this be, dare I think it, a turn for the better?

And then _they_ came in.

The classroom was split in half: half the desks on each side of the room turned toward an aisle in the center so the professor could pace up and down as they… professed. Sitting in the seat opposite mine, on the other side of the aisle, was a certain verdant being. And next to him was a certain large, hulking, half mechanical man in the most hipster beanie imaginable.

They were deep in their own conversation, not seeming to realize that the professor had already started class when they came in. Didn't seem that they'd noticed I was there across the room from them, either. I scooted a little lower in my seat and kept my hair in front of my face, tried not to expose myself from the cover of the others when I had to take a syllabus.

God, would they _ever_ shut up? Before I realized it, I had aggressively shushed them. I slapped a hand over my mouth, chewed my lip and shook my head before I went back to cross examining the papers in front of me. Fuck, I'd blown it. They were going to know it was me who did that, just like back in the tower when I couldn't hear the tutor.

But surprisingly, no one made a big deal about it. A couple others had shushed also. I wasn't the only one fed up. Garfield gave a sheepish laugh, apologized for disrupting and became the most attentive listener I'd ever seen him be.

Then Mr. Stein decided he did, in fact, want to take attendance on the first day. My stomach fell out of my ass as he started going down his list.

"Cyrus Stone?"

Cyborg perked up and gave a wave.

"Ahh… Craig Logan?"

"Garfield, actually."

"Oh. I have a note here that says you go by Craig." Mr. Stein harrumphed and bent down over a student's desk to scribble some shit down. "Not to worry… I'll make sure that's updated today, Mr. Logan."

My stomach decided then that that was the most opportune time to make a threatening, nauseating sound. I couldn't stop my leg from bouncing under my desk as he continued down the list.

"And a Ms. Roth? Rachel are you here?"

I closed my eyes, sank a little lower in my seat. I was bad, I used my abilities to project my voice from an ambiguous point of the room. "Here." He looked around to try to place me but couldn't. He still offered a hello to me, though, which I thought was nice.

Garfield sat up a little straighter in his seat after Mr. Stein had moved along and leaned this way and that trying to see beyond the people in front of him, sharing a meaningful glance with Cy.

"And be sure you're happy where you're sitting. I'm not going to write a seating chart but you know how it goes. No one wants their unassigned assigned seat taken."

I rested my head in my hand on my desk as people shuffled around me a bit, finding a more comfortable place in the room. He could see me now. Definitely. Ugh.

I hazarded a glance upward and gasped, my heart skipping in my chest. He was wearing the most shiteating grin, staring right at me. "Jesus…" I muttered.

This was going to be interesting.

Once all of that was settled, we went back to the syllabus.

"This is a discussion-based course. I don't believe in all of that testing shit. You read the material I assign you, take notes on what you find, bring those to class, I give you credit for them. Then we discuss. Class time will go _like so_. I will review some of the material, point out some highlights and take questions for the first half of class. Then we come together for a sort of fishbowl/popcorn discussion. Once a good discussion is going, I'm only here to mediate. You will choose one of your peers to piggyback off of your thoughts and take us in a new direction."

 _How many times a class would I have to open my mouth to pass?_ I couldn't help but wonder.

"There is no minimum or maximum amount of participation, so don't bother asking. I'm grading you on your willingness to participate and your understanding of the material. I still have to give a final like everyone else, so it's to _your advantages_ —" he said, removing his glasses and stabbing the air in our general vicinity with them— "to just ask questions and try to help each other. Mkay?"

 _Uuuuuuuugh_. I thought I was going to be sick.

I chewed my lip some more and leaned around the tall as fuck dude in front of me, just enough to see Garfield's lightly hairy arm. It was as if a string were connecting us— not even a second later was he looking me in the face with another of those grins, the kind that says, "That's right. You get to see all of _this_. Every class. For the rest of the semester. Excellent." He wiggled a brow before Mr. Stein grabbed his attention.

"Something interesting over there, Mr. Logan?"

He didn't even blush. Just readjusted how he sat, leaning back in his chair, parting his legs and tucking his arms behind his head. "Hm? Oh, nothing. Thought I saw a raven." He flashed his teeth in a half-smile, his canine tooth prominent. "Can't help it, my instinct is to hunt the creatures who try to hide and get away."

My stomach clenched hard and I felt a heat creep up into my cheeks. My leg was bouncing faster now and even with me trying to hold it still my nervousness encouraged it.

There wasn't much left of the period, but even when he was facing the professor, he was sure to side-eye me, always watching me, his eye glinting with… I don't know. Something intense.

Whatever it was, it made me feel dirty. I needed to shower right away. Maybe masturbate, too. I didn't know, but I had to go. I was first out of the class when we were dismissed,taking the stairs two at a time. I knew he wasn't far behind me, and it made my heart pound in my chest. I thought I was going to slip into an asthma attack.

All I could think was, _I have to get away._ And then, when I realized he was _still_ following me, _he can't find out where I live._

God, I wasted so much time that day, dipping around different buildings, disappearing through the library, then darting into the student union to blend in. I didn't go to anymore of my classes.

I couldn't shake him. He was _on_ me.

I broke down and bought a sweatshirt with our school's colors and name emblazoned over it. It was tacky and I would never own other clothes that would match it, but it was my best friend that day when I realized I'd discovered firsthand the wonders of camouflage.

I paced the room when I got back, waiting for Starfire so I could just pour it out. All of the anxiety, and feeling as threatened as I had. I started frantically texting her (Oh. My God. Come home right now. Something happened.) I looked out the window but I didn't see her.

I _did_ , however, see _him._

He was leaning against the fountain in front of my dorm, looking up at… what?

I leaned further into the sill until my forehead was pressed against the glass. He looked like he was... laughing? Then he turned his head and the smile melted off of his face as he looked right into me. His own eyes glinted and he cocked a brow, gave another half smile, and waved.

I dropped my phone out of my hand, "Fuck! Shit." I closed the curtains and shut off the light as if that would change anything that had just happened, hands shaking. What? What the _hell_?

I had to get a grip. This was ridiculous. I knew this guy. Grew up with him, basically. What had changed? I steeled myself and crept across the floor, dared to pull the curtains back again. He was gone— or not at the fountain anymore.

But I could still feel his gaze on me. My cheeks flushed. It was like I was on fire. He was certainly still looking at me. I searched the scape below me, almost like some twisted game of "Where's Waldo?" when I spotted him. Standing below my window, staring up at me.

He was saying something. I couldn't tell what. I strained my eyes to see.

 _I found you, Raven._


End file.
